


Love like Oxygen

by zovinar



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic, Aromantic Character, Character Study, Coffee, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zovinar/pseuds/zovinar
Summary: In which Babs tries to think instead of yell because that’s how you actually solve problems, Dick tries his damnedest not to be a…well,dick,and emotional intelligence is useless when you’re not capable of feeling that particular emotion in the first place.





	Love like Oxygen

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer** : as always, this won’t exactly fit as nicely into continuity as I’d like it to. this is basically a retooling of part of [Nightwing annual #2](http://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Nightwing-1996/Annual-2?id=13239&readType=0#29) which is a retelling/retcon of a fuuuuckton of other stuff including part of The Killing Joke’s fallout and the marriage of Kori and Dick in [New Titans #100](http://readcomiconline.to/Comic/The-New-Titans-1988/Issue-100?id=43429) and none of it follows logically or makes a bunch of sense and (mea culpa) I totally pulled a Morrison and didn’t brush up on the original material before I was half done writing this—my bad.
> 
> if you wanna dig into some source analysis before reading, power to you, I’ve got some more in the notes at the end. what you need to set the stage for this fic:  
> 
> 
>   1. Kori and Dick are in a relationship
>   2. the both of them are sorta comfortable with having sex with people out of said relationship as a one-off, non-committal sort of thing
>   3. Dick comes over to the clocktower to tell Babs something but she’s sorta having a bad time (this is maybe a few years after KJ and they’re both negotiated boundaries on Babs’s disability previously)
>   4. they mutually agree to have sex
>   5. morning after, Dick finally hands over a certain v glam piece of stationary
> 

> 
> In summation, this takes place right after Dick sleeps with Babs then gives her the invite to his and Kori’s wedding. aaaaand roll with it guys.

 

Her initial response when Dick hands her that slim card with the curling gold script is to be absolutely _infuriated_.

Because, because seriously Dick??? Who sleeps with an old flame just to pass off their fucking _wedding invitation_ before they’re even out of bed the next morning!!? What the ever loving fuck, does he even realize what this kind of thing means? How she would feel about this? No one who properly understands how—wait, _wait._

Wait.

It’s like the clouds parting and the light shining through, illuminating the entire fucking mess and suddenly it all makes sense.“…Oh.”

“Uh,” Dick rubs the back of his head ruefully, “yeah?”

“Shut up.” He takes the proper cue from her blanked out expression and the way she may or may not be involuntarily crushing the pretty little note that proudly proclaims his imminent marriage to Koriand’r of Tamaran and shuts the fuck up.

She needs a moment to properly unwrap this idea because, shit, this might have greater implications than the two of them fucking up again in their trainwreck of a small-r-relationship.

Mind still churning, Babs eases herself towards the edge of the bed and Dick dutifully tugs her chair into place, helping out with the parts that’re more of a hassle than they should be while leaving to her the more mechanical parts she can get through with the soothing pattern of auto-pilot.

He trails after her as she wheels into the kitchen. Babs raps her knuckles on the cabinet with the coffee pots in it as she passes and he gives an offhand nod. It’s edging on both too early and too late so she doesn’t feel too bad about asking for asking Dick to make them some coffee. It’s perfect, always worked the best for the two of them and falling back on old rituals always helps. Dick needs something to do with his hands and Babs needs a sec to just _think_.

(Robin had been almost famous for wrinkling his nose at any cup of coffee he’d been offered, be it from her dad or during one of his trips to the early JLA headquarters at Mount Justice, and everyone’d put it up to him being a little kid with a huge sweet-tooth—still not necessarily untrue—while Babs’d thought it was really obviously been because of the whole rich kid with an English butler thing.

Two years in, as they’re tracking down a rather inglorious team-up of Ivy and Riddler, Robin takes Batgirl to a tiny Iranian shop during their crawl through the Eastside market district that serves her the best damn coffee she’s ever had. That is, until Dick shows her the assortment of stove-top coffee pots his parents had made a tradition of collecting.

When he’d asked if he could store them at her place when he’d moved out, unwilling to either leave them mostly unattended in an apartment or bring them to the disaster zone that was Titans Tower, she’d been honored.)

Oh…that definitely smells like cinnamon.

She chances a glance at the stove and yep, there’s the brass jazva pot instead of a copper cezve. That itself is enough of an indicator: Babs generally leans towards the Turkish cardamom blend, but when Dick’s stressed he tends to go for the coffee pot his dad had picked up from Haley’s long ago stop in Yerevan. It’s a rare treat, Babs doesn’t generally stock as much Armenian coffee as she does others, but still one of the best for when they’re both ruffled.

And Babs has always been the best at helping Dick with his relationship problems, she knows all the things he’s fucked up on that Bruce will never hear of as well as having all the experience with him growing up to realize (or at least suss out) why he effed up in the first place.

It’s one of the reasons why they’d worked for so long together. Understanding doesn’t necessarily make things hurt less, but the context had let the two of them work around the problems they couldn’t work through.

Even now, years after breaking it off, Dick still looks at her with those warm eyes, always weighing her opinions and trusting in her insights. Eyes that say _tell me so that even if I can’t fix it I can at least try, because knowing is better than not_.

Because knowledge is power. Babs snorts, Bruce really had infected them. Dick must know what just flashed through her mind because his eyes flick to her and he shoots Babs a weak smile—still giving her space to mull over her thoughts, but…yeah. They both remember the taco incident.

She’s still mad, still insulted, but she tries to hold it at bay because…because if she’s _right_ …  It’s not like he does this on purpose in the first place anyway—and her anger is valid _damnit,_ but that doesn’t mean he’s entirely to blame. Not if…

Babs finally drops her hands from her temples as Dick sets the tiny demitasse cup of _soorj_ on the table in front of her, watching the steam curl as she gathers her thoughts.

When he settles in the seat across from her, his movements are hesitant. Waiting.

“Dick,” she starts, meeting his cautious gaze for a second before dropping her gaze back to the ceramic cup in front of her. It’s so hard to start.

“Babs?”

“Dick…you hurt me.” Babs hears the other saucer raddle as Dick’s cup hits it sharply and she snaps her gaze up to meet his and he looks _horrified_ , “what? _No_ , not like that! Emotionally, you doofus.”

“Ohthankgod,” he mumbles into his hands, deflating. Babs can almost feel her temper start to flare again at that, but it really is a relief; they’ve always been on the same page for the more physical side of things, how could they not? Both of them have been in touch with their bodies from years past by training and habit. The emotional side is where things had started to fall apart.

Now Babs finally gets why.

She rubs a hand over her eyes before bracing both arms on the table again. “You know what asexuality is, right?”

“Umm…yes? I did ask you to pull all that research for Joey.” He’s starting to look worried again so she gives a sharp shake of her head. No, it wasn’t supposed to be a telling statement about her, just context.

Her fingers wrap around the tiny mug, taking a steadying breath to start. “Dick, I’m pretty sure you’re on the aromantic spectrum.” The uncharacteristic silence gets her to look up when her nerves catch, but then her eyes widen as she sees him frozen mid-gesture, “Di—!”

“Right! Right.” He half drops his _soorj_ back on the table before he can spill uncomfortably hot coffee on himself, not even bothering to aim for the delicate saucer. It’s fine, her table’s been battle scared enough that a few more rings won’t matter, not next to the narrow crack that’s still there from when Barda got a bit caught up in overdramatics during a meeting.

They both go quiet, Dick trying to compose himself, trying to digest the information while Babs turns back to her coffee. It’s delicious, as always, and the cinnamon undertone is an important reminder that she’s not the only one that’s feeling out of their depth here.

It’s obvious when Babs really looks, actually tries to see. Dick has always been a performer, always had exacting control over how the world gets to see him. Even when he’s at his most erratic, when he’s angry beyond comprehension, there’s a certain grace to his fury. Here, his inner thoughts are tucked away under a polite look, but she can still see his tangled mess of emotions. Tension as his fingers flex, surprise in the loose way he holds himself. Sorrow in his unfocused eyes.

She taps her own cup on the saucer before drinking the last bit, leaving only the grounds behind. Out of old habit, she sets the cup on the table, turning the saucer over and places that over the cup’s rim. Then, holding the two parts together, she flips the entire thing over towards her heart and sets the saucer back down on the table, cup now resting upside down on the saucer.

Stares at it for a second.

“I love you.”

Dick’s chin jerks up immediately so he can meet her gaze with a raw, honest look. “Me too, Babs.”

She knows. “I forgive you. And…” this is tough, considering the situation, but it does fall on both of them, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m _pretty_ sure that’s my line.”

“Don’t sass me.” She reaches across the table to grab his hands, trying to salvage their moment as he starts to pull a face. “Pushing you into the type of relationship I want without thinking of your needs isn’t exactly healthy, Dick.”

“Does it make you feel better if I say I probably wouldn’t have put this together anyway?”

“It just makes me wish I’d given you the space so you could’ve had the chance. You’re _younger_ than me Dick, and maybe it matters less now but I should’ve at least considered that you were still figuring things out.”

“Ugh. Let’s just, I dunno, we both messed up and are sorry but we’re blaming societal norms?”

“Fuck the system?”

“Oh yeah,” he groans then buries his head in his hands. “God, this makes _so much sense_.”

Her smile is crooked as she lets him de-escalate the situation, he’ll be agonizingly introspective about it on his own time, she knows. Probably’ll go right to the Tower and hang upside down from the trapeze until he feels a bit more steady. But…well. She still needs to bring up the elephant in the room.

“Okay, but—hate to interrupt your magical moment of self-realization but, you’re still apparently getting married.”

He winces and Babs gasps. Punches him in the arm.

“You little shit!”

“Ow, no, Babs—”

“You knew I’d say something against it!” His eyes skitter away from hers and, “oh my god, you wanted someone to talk you out of it—Dick!”

“Okay, not, like, _explicitly_ but—”

“Jesus, when is the ceremony supposed to be, how many weeks?

“…”

“Oh my god.”

“Look—”

“Oh my _god there wasn’t a date_.”

“I—”

 _“Drink your goddamn coffee,”_ she growls, pinching the bridge of her nose

Dick drinks his goddamn coffee and Babs tries her damnedest to figure out how to damage control this moron getting married fucking tomorrow.

“I’m shortlisting the Titans for any emergencies that pop up,” she decides. “Outside of that, you’ll need to find some other way to put this off if you want to talk to her about it first.”

He gives a dip of his head, eyes flicking down. He flips his cup too before he looks back up, giving her a sheepish smile. “So…should I read your cup?”

“Read your own, boy blunder. Maybe it’ll tell you how to get out of this mess.”

He gives her an incredulous look that clearly says _‘it’s not done yet, I just flipped it, jeez.’_

She snorts and pushes her saucer at him. He accepts it with a half bow over his arm before plucking the cup up with a flourish and peering inside.

“Well now young miss,” he starts in his showiest voice, “it seems you have here an interesting pattern of concentric circles. Perhaps a soon to come visit from Miss Lance, I daresay.” He tilts the cup a bit before raises his brows in mock surprise. “Hmm, it appears you might need to refill your supply of cardamom soonish.” He grins at her laugh. “I’d recommend the lovely shop on Fifth Ave, it’s always had the freshest spices I’ve found.”

“Anything for my love life?” she teases.

“Mm, well. It does show here that it’s very likely that I’ll love you forever; however, on the romantic side, I can’t quite tell. But this crest here could quite easily be…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to all the aromantics out there who have absolutely no overt representation whatsoever. keep reminding the people who are finally acknowledging the ace spectrum in the first place that aromanticism isn’t an extension of asexuality. anyway, three cheers for Dick Grayson, aromantic light of my life.
> 
> next up: the taco incident.


End file.
